


car ride

by theology



Category: Welcome to Night Vale
Genre: Gen, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-27
Updated: 2015-03-27
Packaged: 2018-03-19 20:38:35
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 425
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3623484
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theology/pseuds/theology
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Daddy is in the driver’s seat, babbling and singing. Papa sits in the passenger’s seat next to him, occasionally interjecting to say things like, “Cecil, I am quite sure that the moon is <i>not</i> actually a rabbit.” Daddy answers with shrieking noises and Papa grins.</p>
            </blockquote>





	car ride

The car hurtles down an empty desert road. Daddy is in the driver’s seat, babbling and singing. Papa sits in the passenger’s seat next to him, occasionally interjecting to say things like, “Cecil, I am quite sure that the moon is _not_ actually a rabbit.” Daddy answers with shrieking noises and Papa grins.

Occasionally, the car will stop with an abrupt wail. Papa bangs around in the hood for a little while, before coming back into the car with an exasperated sigh. “It doesn’t even have the proper parts,” he says.

Daddy winks at you. You giggle a little. Both of you go to the trunk, and start cooing into the insides of the thing. It gives a little stutterputter and with a soft sigh, grows warm against your face.

Daddy grabs you from underneath your armpits and tosses you very high into the air. “Good job!” he shouts. You scream, afraid that the void will suck you up and away. It doesn't.

By the time you’ve come back down, teeth rattling in your skull, Daddy is spinning another wonderfully wandering tale. You climb into the back of the car and yell, “start over, start over!” which he is only too happy to do.

Daddy's thick words die along with the screeching sun. Papa opens the glove compartment and hands out earplugs. It grows so dark that all you can see is the silver glint of your Daddy’s eyes reflected in the windshield. Papa starts humming. Neither you or Daddy make a sound.

Sometimes, the drive lasts hours. Sometimes, it only lasts a few seconds. The digital clock car blinks 11:11 and the car stops again without a single peep. You jump out, slamming the door shut. It gives a sad little creak and you pat it apologetically.

“Darling,” Daddy scolds, but you know he’s not really mad, because the corners of his mouth are curved upwards and you can’t even see a _hint_ of his tentacles. You and Papa share secret smiles. 

You sprint ahead, Papa and Daddy catching up quickly. Papa scoops you onto his shoulders when you start huffing and puffing. The stars pepper his hair, and you touch them reverently.

Eventually, you are so far out in the sand wastes that you can’t even see the car anymore. “Noooo,” you whine, burying your fists into your Papa’s thick locks.

“Aw, baby, you’re heavy!” He tugs you off.

Daddy laughs and grabs your hand. You grab Papa’s hand, and Papa grabs Daddy’s hand. Together, beneath the shaking cobalt sky, you dance.


End file.
